


Speaking in Tongues

by perlaret



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Awkwardness, F/M, Kissing, Pre-Canon, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-02
Updated: 2012-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-30 12:30:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perlaret/pseuds/perlaret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Riza has an idea. Turns out, it's a good one. </p><p>AKA: the AU where Roy and Riza get to have awkward teenage makeouts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speaking in Tongues

**Author's Note:**

> So, so sorry for the terrible, irreverent title puns. 
> 
> It is my deeply held belief that teen!Roy is a total dork who thought he was about 20x more charming than he actually was and didn't have much game until he endured the, uh… refining fires of a military academy.
> 
> (Riza and Roy are respectively ~15 and ~17 here.)

It wasn't the first time this had happened.

The fact that that it had, at all, was, to be honest, still something of a surprise. When Roy insisted on celebrating Riza's birthday (though she'd been set on ignoring it) and he'd nicked some wine from her father's practically abandoned cellar for the occasion, well, he really hadn't been intending to kiss her.

But he had. And Riza had kissed him back.

Then, it'd happened again a few days later. And again after that. Now, nearly two weeks later, they were in the sitting room next to the kitchen, and Riza was beside him on the couch, legs curled beneath her, one hand gripping his shoulder for balance as she moved her mouth against his.

Personally, Roy felt rather grateful at the moment for her father's proclivity for holing himself up in his study (upstairs, down the hallway) for most of the day. There was little to fear in the way of an interruption, which was wonderful. Because kissing Riza was wonderful. Roy really wouldn't mind doing it all day.

Except, then, Riza pulled away.

"This isn't working," she said.

Roy took stock of the situation: the way his mouth felt warm and tingly from touching hers, the steady rush of his heartbeat, the sort of lightheaded, breathless state she'd put him in. He frowned, mostly because he was confused, because it certainly _seemed_ to be working, and also because he didn't much like the idea that he didn't have the same effect on Riza as she did on him.

She sighed, a frustrated little sound, and clarified.

"The angle is uncomfortable."

"Oh," Roy said, and felt profoundly relieved.

Any other time, that kind of unhelpful response might have earned him a dose of Riza's particularly subtle (but effective) brand of heckling, but she was too busy looking at him with a peculiarly speculative expression.

"Would you mind if I…" Riza said, voice just above a whisper really, gesturing between them in a way that Roy wasn't quite sure how to interpret. But it seemed to suggest she still wanted to kiss him, and that was convincing enough on its own.

"Whatever you want," Roy said, with enthusiasm.

In the two or so years that Roy had known Riza, he had quickly learned that just because she was a quiet girl didn't mean she was necessarily a shy one. This lesson took on a whole new meaning as Riza rearranged herself.

Onto Roy's lap.

She perched there for a moment, balancing on her knees as she straddled his legs. Then, shooting him a glance that somehow made Roy's mouth go immediately dry, Riza tugged her skirt up a good two inches (presumably so the fabric wouldn't strain) and settled on his lap, mid-thigh, her hands lifting to rest on his shoulders. He could see the way her throat moved when she swallowed, the way her tongue flickered when she licked her upper lip.

"I think this will be more comfortable," she stated, as if she were daring him to disagree.

That was highly unlikely.

Roy remembered to breathe, carefully raising his hands to her waist, her cotton blouse warm beneath his palms, and offered her a (hopefully) confident grin. “I have no objections."

This seemed to be precisely what he was supposed to say, because Riza gave him a tiny half-smile, the kind that didn't show so much on her mouth as it did in her eyes. Then she shifted forward, one hand sliding around his neck, the other down his chest, and she was kissing him again.

It was different, like this. Riza was right: it was more comfortable, not to mention a whole lot nicer all around, something stemming from the way her hand fit against the back of his neck, the way she seemed to relax into him as they slipped beyond the first few hesitant moments. She edged her right knee forward a little, only an inch or so, settling her weight further against him. A couple adjectives came to mind. One was: _extraordinary._

She kissed him carefully, staving any accidental knocking of teeth or bumping of noses––they'd already had plenty of that lately. Dizzily, Roy thought that he liked that about her. Riza knew how to take things and make them better.

Suddenly, Riza's lips parted over his and very, very carefully traced the edge of his mouth with her tongue. For a brief stretch of time, Roy's mind went perfectly blank, something that wasn't alarm, but similar, racing through him.

They'd done this before, that first time, with the wine from her dad's cellar, but not since. Not because he didn't want to but because when it was broad daylight and he had all of his wits about him, well, he'd supposed they'd get to it again _eventually._ But… here they were, now, Riza tentatively licking his lower lip. Roy took a deep, shuddering breath, his hands sliding from her waist to her back almost of their own volition, and cautiously opened his mouth to her.

Riza didn't react immediately, but she didn't delay long either. After a few agonizing seconds, she tilted her head a closer, slipping the tip of her tongue between his open lips. Almost hesitantly, she drew a slow line against the inside of Roy's upper lip, and that small movement alone made his stomach clench. She traced the edge of his teeth, flicked her tongue against the roof of his mouth in a way that kind of tickled, every movement the slightest bit cautious. He could hear the soft little breaths she took, feel the way she was gripping the back of his shirt collar. She made a small sound and slid her tongue over his.

When they'd done this before, it'd been enjoyable, albeit incredibly nerve-wracking, even under the soothing influence of the wine. It still hadn't lost much of its novelty, but this time was so unlike that time––just, _better_ ––that Roy felt unexpectedly lightheaded, unable to stop the way his breath caught. He hadn't realized that was even possible. Riza seemed to agree with his assessment, repeating the movement, and all he could do was follow her lead.

That first hurdle breached, continuing from there didn't seem nearly so precarious. Roy relaxed fractionally against the back of the couch, doing his best to tangle his tongue with hers in a way that seemed mutually beneficial. It seemed to be working? Riza's hand had loosened from his shirt and had moved to the bare skin of his neck, fingers grazing over the hair at his nape. It felt… pleasant. Kind of tingly.

Roy was pretty sure it couldn't get any better than this. (He was wrong.)

She made a sound, like she was sighing into his mouth, and suddenly kissed him harder, her hand sliding into Roy's hair to hold him steady. Riza's fingers clenched into a fist, tugging at his hair, her short nails scraping at his scalp.

He wasn't expecting that, nor the groan that choked its way from his throat.

Riza pulled back, blinking, still breathing hard. Roy felt his cheeks start to burn with embarrassment as she regarded him with open curiosity, the hand responsible for his… discomfort… dropping back down to his shoulder. This was mortifying, the absolute opposite of what he had wanted, and Riza wouldn't stop giving him that inquisitive look, like she was waiting for him to explain, which made him feel oddly defensive.

He cleared his throat, adjusted his gaze to somewhere above the vicinity of her left shoulder, and hoped his face wasn't _totally_ red when he muttered, "I-I just liked that, that's all."

A beat of silence.

"What part?" Riza asked, sounding far too composed. It wasn't fair. Roy might have spluttered. He most certainly couldn't bear to look her in the eye for more than two seconds at a time.

"Um, the thing," Roy said, unhelpfully. When her lips thinned, presumably in exasperation, he elucidated. "What you did. W-with your hand."

Her brows furrowed, and then understanding dawned across her face. "Oh. You mean this?” And then she reached up and slowly carded her fingers through his hair, and Roy could see the the look of fascination on her face for only a brief moment before his eyes closed entirely on their own, an uncontrollable shudder rushing through him. _Oh,_ indeed.

Half terrified she might do it again, half desperately wishing she would, Roy managed to croak out: “Yes.” That was definitely it.

When he managed to wrench his eyes back open, Riza was smiling that smile again, looking unusually satisfied. Roy wondered if this meant he was the butt of one of her private little jokes again.

But then she grinned a little wider and said, “Good.” She leaned in, and they were kissing again.

Well.

Joke or not, Roy still had no objections.


End file.
